


Sing The Nightingale

by handlewithkara



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, References to Shakespeare, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara
Summary: Seeing Mon-El again in Myxy's vision makes Kara pensive.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Mon-El, mentions of Kara Danvers/William Dey
Comments: 33
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and I don't have a beta reader.

“Oh,” she thinks as he walks past. “So that’s what it feels like to be in love.”

It’s the little soar of her heart, that little sting. She’s almost forgotten what that feels like. It clings to her like a little song, strumming through her being. It seems like an eternity ago that she was questioning herself whether to go on a date with William.

It felt good. William asking her, just out of the blue. Like a little ray of sunshine in what she has to admit, hadn’t really been a great time. The little tingle of excitement, the immediate thought of “Why?”. Why did he ask me? What does he see in me? Mixed with the desire to find out, to know what he sees in her, what he sees in Kara Danvers.

But here, looking at _him_ , seeing him, talking to him, just being around him, Kara has to admit that it felt nothing like this.

It felt bad to say no to William. To say no the potential of something new. Kara has missed feeling like this.

But there is this hunger in her soul, this void. Maybe it’s just the guilt she tells herself, maybe it’s the depression talking, that is making her look at his face and listen to his familiar voice like it’s the cure for all her woes. Making her feel like she wants to get addicted to it, addicted to that feeling of how it threatens to bring warmth back to her iced-up veins. She’s been dying from the inside bit by bit, turning to ice, turning to stone, trying so hard to keep clinging on to her ability to hope and now she’s around him and it makes her feel like falling, except filled with the knowledge that she would land safely, with the knowledge that it would be okay.

Of course, she doesn’t, doesn’t fall into this dream, for she is a hero, a hero on her mission, even if it’s a mission for herself, a mission to gain clarity.

*

  
A weak, mournful smile plays on her lips.

“When Myxy took me on this journey through my past, Mon-El was there.” She rubs the back of her neck while her gaze gets lost in the distance. “We just… talked.” Why do these simple words feel so enormous?

“I miss him. I miss talking to him.”

She squeezes her eyelids shut. Before, she didn’t want to see him. Blocked him from her mind, completely. Didn’t even want to think about him. Wanted to pretend _he_ never happened. And even in any brief moments of weakness, where she did think of him, where she found herself wondering how he was doing, what happened to him after she left, she had told herself that she couldn’t.

She couldn’t endanger Brainy’s safety like that. And they are not supposed to know the future.

But seeing Winn again, and now Mon-El… it has opened the floodgates and suddenly he seems so close. Painfully, tantalizing so.

So possible. Maybe not to be with him again, but to just be _around_ him. Just for a little glimpse.

Kara draws her knees up to her chest.

In Myxy’s vision, Mon-El felt so close. So _hers_.

Tears sting in her eyes and she rubs away the single one that is trying to escape. Before she wouldn’t have wanted to see him again, because she would have wanted to escape the reminder that there is a good chance that he isn’t.

But it’s different now, it’s different today. She had to watch him die. Again.

And everything feels meaningless compared to that.

Maybe Alex will understand that, maybe she won’t, but right now, Kara is beyond caring.

*

He comes when she calls for him. Of course, he does.

Now the only thing left is to figure out how to start. What words can capture the enormity of what she feels, of what she has seen? Of what they are and what they used to be? _Mon-El._ Is there any right way to start this? There probably isn’t and yet, she begins.

“I feel, I feel like we never really go to say goodbye.”

It’s a lie. They have said goodbye over and over and over again, even if it never felt right. She can see the emotion travel across his face as the realization sinks in. The realization of what she’s truly saying. She stands close to him, so close he can’t escape her.

His fingers clench. “Kara,” he whispers. “What are you doing?” His throat is working furiously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” His eyes are big and panicked, and before she can react he leans in and steals a kiss from her lips, freezing up immediately, eyes squeezed shut, expecting punishment for his misdeed.

“Mon-El,” she says, “We shouldn’t,” and kisses him back, trapping his lips against hers with her hand in his hair. And it’s true. They shouldn’t. But right now her heart is beyond caring what she should. She clings to him, with her arms, with her kiss, with her heart.

“Just one more,” she thinks. “Just one more,” as she drinks him in. They nip and caress, shyly, gently, till she pulls away.

Kara takes his hand and pulls it to her chest. With reddened cheeks and from underneath lowered lashes, her heart beating loud and strong enough to burst, she says what’s been on her mind. “We should take this elsewhere.”

Blood rushes through her ears as she waits for his reply, but there is none and so she just takes his hand and pulls him along. She doesn’t want him to be the Romeo to her Juliet. But at least Juliet got her wedding night.

He stops just as they are about to enter her bedroom. “You sure you are not a shapeshifter?” He murmurs. “No Red K, nothing?”

Kara shakes her head. “No, just me.” She probably does owe him an explanation, even though she isn’t really sure she even has one. “I just want to feel something again.” I just want to feel _you_ again. “Please, be with me, just tonight.”

He nods, the conditions of their convergence now clearer.

“Good,” she smiles.

He opens his mouth. “I think about …” Kara places her finger against his lips, stopping him. She doesn’t want to hear his confessions, the ones she knows will only make it worse when they part. All she wants is another taste, another dream of him.

His lips are poems against her skin. Kara’s heart beats faster. Maybe tonight she is Juliet and this is her wedding night. Bit by bit, their clothes come undone, their eyes squeezed shut, their lips never parting. They stumble into each other, into her bed, falling, tumbling. His hand caresses her hair and he looks at her like she’s a dream, his dream. _Mon-El._. Her beloved Romeo. Her lips find him again, as do her arms when she pulls him close. Warmth travels through her veins, through the pit of her stomach, up her heart.

As Kara straddles him, her legs wrapped around him, holding him close, foreheads brushing, the perfect yin and yang, the meeting of two times, two universes, she remembers, oh right, that what it feels like to be in love.


	2. Chapter 2

They could move like this forever… lost … consumed … gazing, undulating in perfect symmetry. 

Kara’s fingers trace the golden chain around his neck, the gift of love she gave to him. A mournful smile blooms on her lips. Her hand closes around the pendant and seeking his eyes, she brings it to her mouth to kiss it. A shudder travels through his manly form, his eyes blown wide and lost with desire, as his hips respond with renewed urgency. 

Kara lets herself fall against Mon-El, her worst, her best, her favorite pupil, champion of her creed, carrier of her boon. She topples him, their bodies clashing, waves breaking at the shore, against each other. 

She caresses his face, worries his brow with her lips. Her heart sings. Oh that it were neverending night, so she’d never have to rise from this, her wedding bed, that there’d be no end to this closeness, to this bliss. Their sweat slicked bodies intertwined, thirsting for each other. Superhuman strength and healing coursing through them, allowing them to keep trying, trying to sate each other, trying to make up for lost time. 

It steals his breath away, leaves him gasping against her throat, her pulse. “Kara, I … “

Kara shakes her head. That’s not what she wants, not what she wants to hear, not what she wants to face. She wants to be only here, in this moment, to love him again, pure and undiluted by past pains and sadness, at least for tonight. And that means to stop thinking, to stop remembering, to just be. Just the two of them caught in each other. 

Kara doesn’t want to hear his words, doesn’t want to hear his promises. The siren song of his kisses, of his eyes, is all she needs from him right now, her Mon-El, her Romeo. 

Mon-El’s splayed hand against her back press her closer, his lips wander and caress the hollow of her throat. Her head tilts back. For him.

“No.”

“Don’t talk.”

“Don’t stop.” 

Kara bites her lip to stop herself from crying out, from straying towards forbidden words. Words for _him_. 

Boyfriend. Partner. Lover. Husband. Soulmate. _Romeo._

“Just be mine.”

*

Her eyelids flutter close and Kara wonders, before drifting off to sleep, where she went wrong. Defenses down, her body twitches in his arms. 

That little breeze of warmth she felt against her clammy skin, when she met him in that dream. When he looked at her like that. When he spoke to her like that. His words like warm water. 

Can truth ever be found in dreams? 

_No._ Kara stems herself against those thoughts. Too much pain. Too many nightmares. Too many reminders of reality. 

Truth is not what she wants right now. 

No Kara here. No Supergirl. 

Here, in this fantasy made real, sleep is her only enemy. She tries to battle him, that traitorous foe, a silent thief who came here to steal away her precious moments with her Romeo. 

*

Kara looks in anger at the guileful speck of sun’s morning light as it peeks out at the bottom of her drapes. Before Mon-El can see it, she rolls around, deftly, conquering his body with hers, pulls him in for another kiss. 

“Isn’t it …” his question sounds against her lips. 

Kara shakes her head. “No,” she insists. “It’s not.” She smiled. “It is the nightingale.” There is no CatCo here, no DEO, no Supergirl, no duty. Her body moves against his, moves with his on its own accord. Like two different liquids falling into the same cup, brilliant colors swirling together and creating something new, something that can never be picked apart again. Kara grips his hand with hers, as she moves on top to conquer him once more and once again they are one. 

She hides inside Mon-El’s arms, hides her face in the crook of his neck as she tries to outrace the sun, tries to outrace time itself. The promise of goodbye tastes bitter on her tongue and yet she can’t help but go back for another taste. 

_They should teach you that in school,_ she thinks, about the dangers of making love with an open heart. 

Of getting lost in him. 

Forever. 

Hoping that morning never comes. 

*

It’s back. Reality. The weight of the world. All with her. 

Waiting.

They lie curled around a central pillow, turned towards each other, hands intertwined. His face, his beloved face, right there in front of her. 

“Hi,” Kara whispers and it feels like defeat. 

She clears her throat, unshed tears stinging. The pain rises in his eyes as she says the word she knows he knows are coming. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Mon-El nods solemnly. He pulls his hand from her grasp and she feels nauseous. Kara gathers the blanket to her chest as she watches him, sitting there on the edge of the bed, the familiar bend of his back as he reaches for his clothes.

She places one last kiss on his naked shoulder. One last kiss for her Romeo. 

No more wedding night for Juliet. 

Unwelcome guests, Kara blinks away her tears. 

At least her Romeo is safe, she tells herself. Somewhere, out there, far away from her. 

That should make her happy, right? That they are more than that, better than that. Better than two foolish, selfish kids in love. 

Small comforts in small honor. 

*

Masters of Goodbye, that’s what they should be called. 

Kara rubs her arms. The icy weight of responsibility and guilt are ready to stake claim to her heart again. 

Mon-El opens his mouth and Kara stops him quickly by raising her palm. Says what needs to be said. “I don’t need your help. I need to figure this out on my own.” 

Her voice turns fleeting, desperate. 

“You can’t help me. What happened… I, I did this to myself. I need to get out of it myself.”

“Kara, please…”

“No. I can’t. I can’t hear this.” 

No more promises. No more lies. No more false hope. 

“Why?” he interrupts her sharply and holds her gaze. It takes her breath away. There is barely suppressed anger in his voice, when he starts up again. Passion. “Why can’t I say it when it’s the truth. When it’s real.”

Kara closes her eyes and shakes her head, as if to will him away. Except, this is no dream. No mirage from a 5th dimensional imp that can be undone with the snap of a finger. This is her. This is them. She has done this. She really did. 

Mon-El steps closer. His hands find her cheeks, forcing her to look up into his eyes. 

“Please. I need you to hear this.” His throat is working furiously as he struggles. “It’s you, Kara. Whether we are together or not, whether you want me or not, it’s you, it’s always been you. And … “ His smile turns mournful. “No matter what happens, it will always be you.”

Her heart, her stupid open heart whimpers with joy. Foolish. Weak. Vulnerable. Human. With him. 

“You can send me away. And I’ll leave if you want me to, but I want you to know that I hate it. I hate every second that we aren’t back together. That you won’t let me back into your life.”

Doesn’t he realize? Foolish, foolish Romeo. “What about you? About the Legion, the future, your life, your duty?”

 _Pain._ So much unfiltered pain shines in his light eyes. It nearly takes her breath away. 

“I don’t know, Kara. We’ll find a way, if you want us to.”

 _You know you deserve the same compassion, you show others._

Can she dare to? Dare to forgive herself? Enough to give herself permission to let him back into her life? To allow herself that glimmer of solace even when it won’t change a thing? 

It was just a dream, wasn’t it? The impossible dream of one endless night of happiness and love. It cannot last. 

Morning has to come. The nightingale can’t sing forever. And yet there it is, her stupid little heart, clinging to that ray of hope. Would he say no to her, her Romeo? Is she still trapped in this dream where nothing stands between them, nothing that matters, anyway? Is the strong enough to say that one stupid, hopeless word? Stupid, selfish and profane. And yet her heart, it cries and it wants and it insists that this one word can lift the spell, can set them free. Is she strong enough to utter it, unleash it to reign in reality? Will it even make a difference? How can one foolish word pull an even more foolish dream into this world of pain and guilt and duty? That one impossible word. 

“Stay.”

Kara drops it, like a tiny pebble into an endless pond, standing frozen in fear to see those ripples and whether they are strong enough to change the world. 

“Yes,” Mon-El says quietly. “I will.” 

_Forever._

Kara’s worries fall off of her like heavy shackles and she smiles. _Babysteps._ What seemed like an insult mere minutes ago now feels pretty damn good. Pretty damn real. 

A different story. 

A different song. 

No more Romeo and Juliet. 

Instead, a shy fox and a prince, inching closer to each other, bit by bit. 

_Tame me. Tame my soul. My fears._

And with her heart still small and frightened, she gifts him the brightest smile she can afford right now and tells him the only thing she can. 

“Good.”


	3. Epilogue

“Will you ever tell me?” 

It’s been a week since he’s been back. He peeks his head out from below her sink. Her trash compactor has been acting up and not it’s not just an excuse merely because she thinks that Mon-El looks cute using handyman tools. It’s not that she couldn’t do it herself, but it’s just so much more fun to watch him. 

“What do you mean?”

“What it is that made you call me.”

Kara grins and pops her lips. “Nope,” she says, tilting her head, hands on her hips. 

Mon-El looks up and frowns. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Kara laughs. Two weeks. It feels like six lifetimes ago. And whether he knows it or not it’s a lot, too much maybe, too much to put into words. She runs her fingers along her playful braid, as she tries to piece the disparate parts together in her mind and comes up short. But does it truly matter? Does it matter when she’s back to being able to take in his form with her eyes, so familiar. Here. With her. In her home?

Kara steps close, into his personal space and smiles coyly. Her eyes lovingly settling in the smudge of oil on his adorable nose. 

One more kiss and then another. 

“I know you don’t believe me, but we already did.”


End file.
